


Dearest Oskar…

by CarvcrEdlund



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bad guys are just misunderstood, Character Study, F/M, Feelings, Gen, Hansel and Gretel - Freeform, I don't really know what to tag, Letter, Love sucks, Magic sucks, Necromancy, Rowena isn't all heartless, The Grand Coven, Witch - Freeform, accidental murder, everything sucks, letter to a dead person, life sucks, mega coven, sympathy for a bad person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarvcrEdlund/pseuds/CarvcrEdlund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>But Oskar, I never came to see you, and that is my greatest and only regret. I could never face you. Because, in the end, I killed you too. Because I was born cursed. Cursed to destroy everything I love.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Rest in peace, my love.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>~ R</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dearest Oskar…

Dearest Oskar,

I never sent you a letter. I always meant to, but I never did. You were probably so confused, never knowing why you didn’t age. I really should have told you.

I suppose I assumed we’d have eternity to meet again. But I was wrong.

Oskar, I was wrong about so many things. And I was afraid, so afraid of you. When we first met, you were just a young boy, but you managed to capture my heart of stone so quickly. I never believed in love at first sight. Not until I met you.

I always thought love had to be earned. That it was something denied until you had done something to deserve it. I’d never known anything different.

When I was young, and my powers were just blooming, my father saw me as a freak. My mother refused to accept what I was, and would never talk to me about it. They locked me away, and told me it was to keep me safe.

My little sister, though. My sister’s powers allowed her to make any meal taste like something from a royal’s plate. She could turn a shoe into a steak and back. She could take something old and make it fresh and new again. Her powers didn’t make things melt, or explode, and my parents loved her.

Oh, if only they knew what she became. You may have heard of her, actually. Have you ever read Hansel and Gretel?

But my powers… Everything always went wrong, somehow. I would try to grow a flower, and it would wither and die a moment later. I tried to fix the table, and it would rot and fill with termites. I did every spell perfectly, I trained for days with each one. But I could never produce anything good.

I killed my parents. I was only seven, and it was an accident. My mother’s familiar, a calico cat named Henry had choked to death. I loved her cat, so much. He was always such a sweetheart. So, when I found him dead, I didn’t bury him. I found a spell, and I tried to bring his soul back from Purgatory.

It was the first time I ever tried a spell on anything intelligent.

And it worked! I was overjoyed! For the first time, a spell had worked, and I’d done something /good/. Something my sister couldn’t do. I brought someone back to life.

Henry didn’t even realise he’d died, the dummy.

But, that night… at dinner, he came into the room, in his human form. And his eyes… they were bleeding. Before I knew what was happening, he attacked my mother. He ripped her throat out before my eyes. My father tried to stop him, and he died too. My sister stopped Henry.

Me? I ran. I had no home anymore, not that it was much of a home, anyways. My sister and I hated each other. Even more so, after that. It would be many years before we met again.

For a long time, I refused to use magic. I wanted nothing to do with it. My magic wasn’t a blessing, like my mother’s, or a talent like my sister’s, it was a curse. I was cursed to destroy everything my magic touched.

I became very sick, from not using it. So sick, that another witch could feel my power building up. Her name was Elphaba.

She was a witch of the Grand Coven, and after hearing my plight, she took me in. She told me that all magic has a purpose, and mine just hasn’t found it’s yet.

So under Elphaba’s guidance, I studied witchcraft again, looking for /something/ my curse couldn’t ruin. I was very talented, or so I was told. Though the spells often turned sour, they did work at first, and my mentor told me that was a good sign.

It was a long two years before I finally found the one thing my magic couldn’t ruin. Curses and counter curses. The dark arts, they were called. It had been nearly four centuries since the last witch with my kind of magic had come around. Her name was Morgana La Fey.

I was thrown out of the Council. They were afraid of me, though I never asked to have this power.

I was fifteen, then.

I was a wreck. Nothing I did made anyone happy. The people I had come to trust, who I had come to love as my family, had cast me out without a second thought. I tried so hard to use my powers for good, like my mother, but it seemed that isn’t how fate would have it.

I drifted from town to town, until I settled in a place called Canisbay. It was fairly removed from the loop of gossip, and I was able to blend in there as a simple seamstress.

It was then that I found where I fit in, if only briefly. After I’d cursed a man for shorting me for my work, another witch in the town noticed. She led me to the other's of my kind on that fateful harvest festival.

It was there that I met my first demon. I was highly intoxicated at the time, and even now I can’t recall a single thing anyone said the entire night. But his face, I’ll never forget. The nameless man with yellow eyes.  
I bore a child for him. Not his child, but some reincarnation of a long-lost creature.

All I knew beyond that, was that this child would play a very important role someday. He would have a big future, and I had been chosen to raise him. I was the one who had been chosen to shape him into the ruthless, great ruler he would someday be. I had to make him hate humanity.

I finally had a purpose again.

I bore the child, and the omens came, one by one. I once thought perhaps, I had just a bit too much to drink. But by the time he came into the world, I had no doubts.

My son came into the world in silence, in a dark alley, where I had failed to get to the doctor in time. As I held him for the first time, I couldn’t believe that he would someday be someone so terrifying. My heart yearned to love him, but I could not let it.

I named him Fergus Roderick Macleod. The infamous ruler.

I was only sixteen, and I was a single mother. And a witch, to boot.

I made do with my odd-jobs, often getting pity from another mother and being given food.

Fergus grew quickly, and he cried often. I was so inexperienced, and I had no one to ask for advice. I can’t tell you what a terrible mother I was. But, I suppose that meant I was doing my job. I found that whiskey put him to sleep better than a lullaby, so that’s what I used.

He learned better if I set him on fire when he did something wrong.

But it /was/ hard. Deep down, I knew he wasn’t really my son. Yet, I wished he had been. If he was a normal child, I could have tried to love him. But I knew his fate was sealed, and I wished to prepare him for it. Love would only break him, as it did me, so I did not give him any. Better for him to grow strong and heartless now, so he didn’t have to later.

I had left the house when I was seven, but I allowed Fergus another year before I thrust him out on his own. It hurt to stay, but it hurt more to leave him.

I gave the young boy a kiss on his chubby little cheek, pulled on my scarf, and left. I told him I’d be back in a flash. I still think it’s the most brutal thing I’ve ever said to the boy.

I sold him to humanity’s lowest. The grime at the bottom of the barrel. They sent two men to retrieve him. I got a few coins and was sent on my way.

Again, I drifted. I put Fergus out of my mind. He was learning hard lessons, but with his strong spirit, I knew he’d be fine.

He was no longer my little ankle-biter, I was just one of the many trials he had to endure to reach his destiny.

But then, Oskar, then I met you. I was lost, alone, injured, and sure I was going to die. But then you came along, and though I’d done nothing to earn it, you showed me kindness and compassion. You showed me the love I never had.

And though you were merely a child at the time, and I was already late in my years, I fell in love again. You allowed me to stay, you gave me what little you had, and asked for nothing in return. You showed me something I’ve never seen before.

And then you fell ill, and I knew my magic could not save you. None except one spell.

You see, witches don’t normally live forever. One might think they all could, with their magic, but what most people don’t know, is that magic does not like to curse people.

Very rarely, is someone adept enough to curse a person.

And another thing people don’t know, is that immortality is not a blessing.

Immortality is a curse.

I cursed you, Oskar, to never age past your prime. To live forever and watch everyone you know grow old without you. To watch as everything changes around you, while you remain the same, forever. Never getting sick, never getting fat, or thin, or changing in any way. I cursed you to save your life, because I was selfish.

And then I left, because I could not bear to see you after what I had done.

I stopped caring, after that. I made no attachments, and I grew into the woman I am now. The last witch of the Grand Coven, and the last of the great natural magic folk. I have accepted what I am, and I revel in my destruction.

But Oskar, I never came to see you, and that is my greatest and only regret. I could never face you. Because, in the end, I killed you too. Because I was born cursed. Cursed to destroy everything I love.

Rest in peace, my love.

-R

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love!


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